


Sleepless

by scholarlydragon



Category: Greek Mythology, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scholarlydragon/pseuds/scholarlydragon
Summary: Written between episodes 42 and 43 of "Lore Olympus".Hades can't sleep.(companion piece to "Midnight")





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration from Adeline Hatter.

I can’t sleep.

This is not an unusual state for me. Insomnia and I are old friends. But this… this is a particularly insidious kind of sleeplessness. Something more than the simple fact that slumber is elusive. When I close my eyes I am haunted. Not by visions of a sharp-featured face dark as the night sky and a toothy maw opened wide. Not by a scarlet-skinned, dark-eyed sneer. Not by the hundreds of day-to-day issues that trouble the daily life of a king among gods.

No. I am haunted by the memory of pink irises gazing up at me.

Heaving a sigh, I sit up in the bed and scrub my hands over my face. I can hear several sources of canine snores in the dark, though I can see nothing more of them than vague shadowed forms. Rising from the bed, I shrug into my robe and pad noiselessly from the bedroom. There is not much point in pretending I will be able to sleep.

As I wander down the hall, my attention is caught by the guest room. It’s seen little enough use over the years. Even Minthe had never stayed there, her greater preference being the master bedroom. At least until canine antipathy had necessitated other arrangements…

As I pause in the doorway, I am struck by a realization. Has it really only been three days since the party? Three days since I carried her into this room. Three days since conversation over coffee.

_Do I look like a scoundrel to you?_

_Yes._

With a groan, I tear myself away from the guest room and the memory of her teasing grin, and continue down the hall.

Scoundrel indeed. Not for indiscreet affairs, but for something much worse. Scoundrel is too kind. Inattentive, terrible king.

The fear I felt as I searched for her in Tartarus rises like bile once more, threatening to choke me. I have no fear of the shades in Tartarus, especially at that shallow level. They are controlled easily enough with a word and a glance. But I cannot forget the trembling, exhausted fear in her tone as she called out my name, nor the sick lurch in my gut as I saw black, bony claws wrapped around her throat.

How many times has she been hurt because of me?

How many times can I allow her to be?

Reaching my office, I pace the length of the floor before the windows. The ritual, sanctified by centuries of sleepless nights, fails to soothe me as it usually does. My mind is too upended by memory and possibility. Her hands covering my face, sweetly concerned that I might once more see her tears. The impossibly trusting weight of her body against mine as she embraces me. My own trembling hesitation before I abandon over-thinking and give in.

My traitorous heart whispers of what-ifs and maybes and for an instant, just an instant, I allow myself to consider. She had looked at me with such soft eyes. Could I truly have seen the longing that I thought I had seen in her gaze?

Abruptly, the memory of her soft pink gaze shifts. Longing becomes sadness. Fear. Regret. I groan and dig my hands into my hair, fisting my fingers into the strands. There is no other way for this to end. She is too young, too innocent. I am old. And self-aware enough to know that I have baggage that should not be forced onto a nineteen year-old goddess with everything in front of her.

I can’t let her be hurt again. Not because of me. Though it would seem the price is that it tears my own heart in two.

I lean my forearm against the window frame, propping my forehead against a clenched fist and sigh.

It’s a long time till morning.


End file.
